


Bloodhail

by FanFicReader01



Series: Peculiar encounters of a taxi driver [31]
Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: Blood, Ficlet, Macabre, Murder, Sacrifices, unnaed cultists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 00:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01
Summary: But I just don'tBut I just don't accept thisI just don't accept this at all~ Bloodhail, Have a Nice Life





	Bloodhail

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a vague origin story of Marko in the Strange Trails universe :P  
Somehow I never wrote it down so here's the quick ficlet

I hailed from the Blood Village. A small, secluded village nobody ever heard of. And maybe it was better that way. That nobody, no _sane_ person knew about the town’s very existence. Because, as the name already suggests, the village has to do something with blood.

Every month it hails blood. Tons of that ‘red rain’ pours down from a humongous thick, impenetrable cloud. A cloud that never leaves. When I was small, I wondered if that cloud was actually taking us, villagers, hostage. Looking back, I wasn’t that wrong.

Red would paint all houses. If it rained really heavy, it would look like the Red Sea had found its way into the village. Most people tended to stay inside. Those who dared to go outside, braced themselves in special raincoats and armed umbrellas.

I often asked the people around me what was going on. But the people remained silent. My ‘caretakers’ didn’t bother explaining anything to me or the other orphans.

And so many people remained silent. Silent about everything that ever happened in this weird little town.

When I turned sixteen I got expelled from the orphanage. I became too old. But nobody ever came for me. No loving parent or a substitute caretaker. I’m still surprised I managed to find myself a roof above my head. I worked plenty of jobs that were harsh on me. It was a normal fact that every night I’d just collapse out of exhaustion in my tiny room. Fingers stiff, palms calloused and blisters on my feet. But nobody ever cared to explain to me why I had to endure this.

As years went on, less and less people talked to me. Even my bosses started to avoid any interaction with me. People certainly kept secrets from me. Everyone had secrets except me. I started to hate secrets and being excluded from basically everything. I felt like some strange scapegoat in this unwelcoming town. And despite it all, I never felt like leaving this hellish place. Maybe because I didn’t know there was an outside, maybe because it was of the only odd comfort I had in this sick place: the never changing cloud and its never-ending red rain.

My ‘explanation’ finally came when I was twenty years old. As if out of nowhere, a group of white cloaked figures appeared in my room. I don’t remember how they even got it without having to force the door open with force. Without answering my questions, as I was used to by now, they dragged me out of my tiny living place and into the dark morning mist. They brought me to the town’s centre where a concrete block was erected in the exact middle.

With brute force they pinned me onto the block. I was sure I felt a bone or two crack when it was met with the painful concrete.

“What’s going on?” I panicked.

“Shut up and just deliver us,” one of the people hissed as they jotted a piece of cloth into my mouth to silence me. They used leather belts to strap me onto this makeshift ‘bed’.

Horrified I watched one of my abductors reveal a large knife with a long shiny knife. The cloaked people stood around me in a circle and started muttering in a language I never heard of before.

“You’ll deliver us.”

“You will keep us safe for yet another month.”

“For the Cloud wants us to.”

Total nonsense but then I stared at the sky. Grey as ever. But this time I swore I saw two bright lights shine as if they were eyes. A part of the massive cloud darkened into deep black. Something I only could perceive as a gaping mouth. My body stiffened, froze into place and the knife cut through me like I was a pathetic clump of butter.

“From the Blood Village you hail. And for the Village you will hail blood.”

All this time, I was merely a sacrificial lamb to the malevolent cloud above our village and there was nothing that could’ve prevented that. And wonder above wonder, I didn’t really die but arose from my bloodless corpse. I _became_ a new entity with my old name, Marko, as the only reminder that I used to be more human, as the only thing that holds ties to my unsatisfying past.

**Author's Note:**

> Ironic how he's now a Keeper of Secrets, while he used to hate them xD


End file.
